


Day 26: Abandoned

by tbazzsnow (Artescapri)



Series: Whumptober 2019 [12]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, Frank discussion of childbirth, M/M, Mentions of Character Death, The Mage POV, Whumptober 2019, again a lot of hurt not much comfort, frank discussions of childbirth, frank discussions of complications of childbirth, prompt Abandoned, takes place long before events in Carry On, the Mage's side of the story, there is angst in this, this hurt to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-01-31 15:06:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21448177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artescapri/pseuds/tbazzsnow
Summary: The Mage thinks back on his last months with Lucy, Simon's birth, what happened to Lucy, and how he chose his eventual course. His side of the story.This was difficult to write but it has been on my mind since I first read Carry On. Some frank descriptions of childbirth.
Relationships: The Mage/Lucy Salisbury
Series: Whumptober 2019 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1541554
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	Day 26: Abandoned

##  [Whumptober Day 26](https://carryonsimoncarryonbaz.tumblr.com/post/188612900737/whumptober-day-26)

Day 26: **Abandoned**

Warnings for blood, character death, generalized Mage assholery. It was hard to write but it’s what came to me when I saw today’s prompt. Sorry for the angst. 

* * *

**The Mage**

There was no choice. There were no other options.

It was a pact we made together. It was the result of years of investigation, research, planning—the culmination of our magical destiny. The way we were going to change the world, together.

But every day that passed made the brightness in Lucy fade a little more. Took the color from her cheeks, the breath from her lungs, the steadiness from her gait. The power of her magic draining away.

She couldn’t even cast the simplest of spells by the end.

I poured every bit of healing magic into her. Into both of you. Spells and incantations. Blessings. Talismans. Draughts and poultices drawn from the most obscure and banned texts. Everything I had.

I couldn’t stop it. And I had to protect you.

You, Simon. The hope of the magickal world. The Greatest Mage. The one who will save us all.

I read the books. I watched the videos. I knew what to expect when Lucy went into labor. I had magic and a smattering of medicine to see us through.

It wasn’t enough.

Her labor came on the solstice—just as we had hoped. Just as we had planned. Just as had been foretold.

There wasn’t much pain, that’s what Lucy said. Just a _pulling_, a tightening and then a release.

And there you were. Simon. Our Simon. Ruddy faced and squalling. Blue eyes clear and wide. A tuft of hair swirled onto your forehead.

_“My rosebud boy.” _That’s what Lucy called you. That’s what she said as she held you to her, gazing down at you with so much love in her eyes that I felt my heart stutter in my chest.

I loved Lucy. I covered her with kisses then, the both of you. Kissed her face, her nose, her forehead.

Kissed the tips of your fingers, Simon. The damp strands of hair on your head. The barely-there stub of your nose.

Wrapped you in the blanket she had knitted for you, on those days when she couldn’t even lift herself from the bed. Wrapped you up and set you back on her chest.

The bleeding started a few moments later. The books said that was normal. To be expected.

Not that much bleeding. Not that fast.

Not that much.

It soaked the bed, the mattress. Poured out of Lucy and not one spell I cast made a difference. I mustered all the power that was in me and cast spell after spell.

“**_Get well soon.” _**

** _“Good as new.” _ **

** _“Right as rain.” _ **

** _“Fit as a fiddle.” _ **

** _“All’s well that end’s well.” _ **

** _“Back on your feet.”_ **

** _“On the mend.”_ **

** _“Just what the doctor ordered.”_ **

** _“Apple a day.”_ **

** _“Blood is thicker than water.”_ **

** _“Time heals all wounds.”_ **

It felt like casting in a void.

As if she were resistant to it all. Not just drained of her own magic, as she’d been the last few weeks, but immune to mine.

Immune to magic itself. It didn’t matter how many times I said the words. How quickly. How loudly.

I was shouting them by the end, the words spilling out of me in torrents.

Her eyes closed.

Lucy’s grip on you never slackened, Simon. Even when she was gone, her arm still stayed curled around you.

I didn’t know what to do.  
  
I never thought … I never thought the offerings we made would be _sacrifices._

Spells.

Relics.

A host of magickal objects, procured by stealth and subterfuge—mane of a unicorn, fresh dragon’s blood, moss from the standing stones of Machrie Moor, a slip of fairy wing, a basilisk scale, ashes from a phoenix, ground demon tusk.

Pixie dust. For Lucy.

That’s what we gave. That’s what we surrendered to our cause.

That’s what was needed to create you.

Blood.

I thought the chickens would be enough. The ritual sacrifice of something dear.

Lucy loved them so.

She wasn’t supposed to pour herself into you. I never asked that of her.

I never wanted that.

It’s done.

She went still and pale and all I have left is you, Simon.

I don’t have a plan for this. This wasn’t in my reckoning. It was meant to be Lucy and me, raising you here, in the remote solitude of this island, at my ancestral home.

Free to teach you all the mysteries of magic, the skills and tools you will need to fulfill your purpose, without the elitist trappings that taint our world. Away from the classist power mongers that comprise the Old Families. Far from the blatant speciest views of the Coven.

Here. Here is where we would build your spirit, hone your magic, prepare you for the destiny that lies ahead.

The Greatest Mage.

We _made _you, Simon. We brought a prophesy to life.

But I couldn’t keep you.

Not now.

I can’t fulfill my part of this, not without Lucy here to guide you, protect you, while I infiltrate the very bastions of the old guard. I can’t pave the way.

Not with an infant in my arms.

A child I can’t explain. One I can’t claim as my own without a myriad of intrusive questions. 

The Chosen One that I created to bring down the flawed and corrupt World of Mages can’t be _with me_.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

I dug the grave at the far end of the garden, near the rowan trees. Magicked the grass over it. Placed a paving stone with a hastily spelled rendering of a rose on it. Lucy would have liked that.

The cottage is locked. My books, papers, journals, and files are all warded. It will take my blood to gain access to them.

I didn’t have time to do much more than that.

I had to take you somewhere, Simon.

I couldn’t keep you fed by magic alone. I couldn’t keep you _with me._

The boat to the mainland left at dusk.

A boat. A bus. A train.

A **_“nothing to see here.” _**

An **_“out of sight out of mind.”_**

Nothing for the Normals to remember us by.

I wrote your name on your right arm. The name Lucy wanted you to have. _Simon Snow._

I couldn’t give you mine.

I wrote it in the moments before I left you. Before I swaddled you in the blanket Lucy made.

Before I kissed your forehead one last time.

Before I said my final goodbye to you.

Before I set you gently on the steps of the care home, rapped on the door and cast a **_“through a glass darkly” _**on myself as I melted into the shadows of the alleyway.

She had a kind face. The woman who opened the door and fussed at the sight of you. Who instantly picked you up and held you close, tucking the loose end of the blanket around you.

I will keep my eye on you, Simon Snow. You hold the fate of our world in your hands.

I’ll know when the time comes. I’ll know when to find you again.


End file.
